Hidden Truths
by Streetwyse
Summary: Kylie was a girl who thought that she knew everything about her life. Who she was, what she would. It was all there. Until the day came when she lost something very important and made a discovery that would change her world forever.


Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT, so you can't sue me. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. But all the original creations are mine, so if you want to use them, please just ask. Thank you.  
  
I never knew  
  
Kylie  
  
They say that the biggest changes in a person's life can start with the smallest things. You never know what they're going to be or when they'll happen. They just come into your life and for good or bad, they do what they must. There's nothing that can be done to stop them, no matter what you try and that the best thing to do is just accept it and let things take their course.  
  
Well, until recently, I was one of those boneheads who believed otherwise. I thought that if I tried hard enough and was stubborn enough to wait it out, then I could do anything. There was no problem, big or small, that I couldn't find the solution too. Boy, was I wrong.  
  
I learned the hard way that sometimes no matter what you do, things just happen. You have to live with them and the consequences that follow, whether you like it or not. Which is what happened to me about a year ago, when I learned more about myself than I ever thought possible.  
  
You see, for most of my life, I always thought that I was just like everyone else. Oh sure, I had could tan easier than most, but when you live on the coast, that's to be expected. So I never really thought about it much. And then there are my eyes. For some reason, they're a bit larger than most, but Mom always told me that that was nothing to worry about. She claimed that I got it from some ancient relative of hers from her father's side of the family. As a kid, I was never really sure which relative she meant, since Mom never really talked about her family that much.  
  
When I was younger, I could never really understand why that was. I knew that her parents had died when she was in her teens, which explained their absence from our lives, but I knew that she had to have other relatives. I had seen a few pictures of them in old albums, some with names on them, so I knew that they existed. They were just never spoken of by my Mom or my Dad for that matter, under any circumstances.  
  
That belief was the exact opposite for my Dad's family. Not only were they spoken of often, they were spoken to in person and were a major part of our lives. Relatives were a constant during every major holiday and summer vacation, or we would go see them. But none more than Dad's parents, Grammy and Papa.  
  
They only lived a few houses down from us, so they were the ones that watched us nearly everyday after school when Mom and Dad were still working. It was always fun with them, since they never left any of us out. Which still surprises me sometimes, since besides me, my folks had three other kids, my younger sister and brother, Tanya and Lloyd, and we were always a handful. They managed somehow though, and everyone could usually be made happy in any situation.  
  
I've always been the oldest of my folks' kids, and I was usually the one that kept order when no one else was around. Tanya, who's younger than me by two years, never really enjoyed having someone bossing her around. She preferred to do that herself, and she was always being a pain when Mom and Dad left me in charge, claiming that she knew better than I did. Which was quite a contrast with Lloyd, our brother, and the only boy in the family.  
  
Lloyd was younger than I was by three years and Tanya by two. He was the youngest in our family and he was always the quiet one. He preferred to spend his time reading, watching the rest of the world and drawing what he saw. He was a true artist in that he could bring anything to life, no matter what it was. It was something that drove Tanya crazy and often worried our parents, who felt that he should be out doing something more active with people his own age. But it was what I loved most about Lloyd.  
  
He was one of those rare people that you could tell anything and know that they would understand, no matter what you had done. Lloyd never judged, he just took people as they were. Their faults and their strengths, the whole thing. It didn't matter to him what you were or had done, you were a person and that was all that counted. And I think that was what made us so close when we were growing up.  
  
I could always talk with Lloyd when there was no one else to turn to. He may not have been old enough to know the full extent of my problems, but that never mattered. He just did what I needed most at those times; have someone listen without judging me and for that I could never thank him enough.  
  
Just as I can never be sorry enough for never being able to do as much as him when he needed the same thing from me, especially in those last days. See, even though Lloyd was barely thirteen before all this started, he was dying. He had a form of cancer called leukemia and it was eating away at him all the time. It's not always lethal, and if it's detected soon enough and you get the right treatments, there's a good chance that you'll pull through with just a few problems. If you're lucky. But that wasn't the case with Lloyd.  
  
We found out that he was sick when he was ten and for the next three years following, my parents tried every treatment, every medication that they could get their hands on to try and save him. For awhile, it seemed to be working and then it would start up again with a vengeance a few months later.  
  
So it went for three long, tiring years. A lot of that time was spent in the hospital, with us making weekly if not daily trips there. It was hard for everyone during that time, especially Mom and Dad. They were always upset and weary, never seeming to get more than a brief respite in sleep when they finally managed to find time even for that.  
  
Tanya and I were on edge a lot too. Mostly with each and sometimes with our parents. But never with Lloyd. He was the one person that no one would upset, no matter how slight or major. That was a commonplace agreement among us all, regardless of how we were feeling toward each other at the time. Lloyd had enough to worry about and there was no reason to upset him further.  
  
Not that I think it would have mattered one way or another. Lloyd was well aware of the troubles going on with the rest of us, I'm sure, even though he never said anything. He just took it as another part of life, a fact that couldn't be changed and only to be accepted.  
  
It seemed to me, even then, that Lloyd knew that he would die, no matter what was tried on him. And he had accepted that, as he had everything else. I could never understand how he could be so calm about that sort of thing. Anyone else would have been terrified, knowing that they were going to die. But never Lloyd. He was a rock, never flinching, and that was how he was until the end. Which finally came just two weeks after his thirteenth birthday. It was in the morning, just as the sun was coming rising, when Lloyd finally passed away.  
  
I can still remember it as if it had just happened, even now. We were in his room at the hospital, the whole family. Tanya and Mom were asleep on the bench and chair. Dad had been by the window and I was by Lloyd's bed. I had refused to leave him after that final treatment, despite how hard my parents and the doctors had tried to get me to sleep. I simply refused them, saying that I wanted to be there for my brother when he needed me most. They finally, if reluctantly, accepted that and left me alone.  
  
So I was there and awake when Lloyd started to slip away. I was holding his hand tight in mine, letting him know that he wasn't alone. Everyone else had gathered around; Mom and Dad were on one side, with Mom holding Lloyd's other hand and Dad hugging her shoulder. Tanya was on the same side as me, clutching at my sweater.  
  
Lloyd's grip failed with each moment, but he managed to stay strong somehow. He looked up at the rest of us, smiling like he always did. He tried talking but couldn't because his voice had given out a long time before. All he could manage were a few croaks that we could just barely understand.  
  
His last words still ring in my ears, even now. He had said: "There's nothing to worry about, Mom. Everything's gonna be okay… Promise."  
  
And then his eyes closed and that was it. Lloyd was gone and so was a major piece of my life. Never again would I have a little brother to tease and talk to. Someone who would listen when I needed a friend and still be the same little pain that all younger brothers are. I had lost something precious, we all had, and it could never be replaced.  
  
At the same time though, it was through Lloyd's death that I learned about a truth that I had never imagined. A truth that not only involved myself, but my mother and everyone around me.  
  
It was about three months after Lloyd had passed away, and we were just starting to pack his things away. A lot of it had gone to charity drives, since that's what Lloyd had wanted. Other stuff, too precious to be given away to anything, had been packed in boxes and was going to be stored in the attic.  
  
I had already taken one box of stuff up and was looking for space in an old trunk. It was pretty cramped, already too full of things to even consider putting more in. But I was still sort of numb from losing my brother, so I didn't mind just looking through what I had found. It gave me something to do and took my mind off other things.  
  
Which was when I found it. I would have probably passed it over, thinking it was just another old book. But it had fallen off the pile that I had made to side from what I had already taken out and that was enough to catch my attention.  
  
I reached forward to pick it up and put it back on the pile, when I saw my Mom's name on the cover. It was in her handwriting, written in pen, and very faded but still legible. Now, I'm not one to pry in other's business and usually I respect their privacy. But there was just something about this old book, which I soon judged to be a journal or diary, that made me curious to look inside.  
  
So, without hesitation, I slowly opened… 


End file.
